


Don't Ask, Don't Tell

by QueenoftheNile



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Denial, Diagnosis, F/M, Gallavich, M/M, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, Vivid descriptions of mental illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:36:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheNile/pseuds/QueenoftheNile
Summary: Ian has always wanted to be a part of the military.Right before his 16th birthday, he's done it - he applies for a scholarship Marlin Military Academy in Kingsley, Michigan.If he gets accepted, what happens to his family? What is waiting for him in Michigan? Will he suffer at the hand of harsh disciplinarians, or thrive on the order and precision and distinguish himself as an upstanding student?Find out below.





	1. Chapter 1

Ian Clayton Gallagher, born and raised in the slums of Chicago, Illinois, had always wanted to join the armed forces.

 

He had set aside a little bit of money each year - not easy given his living conditions - had joined Junior ROTC at fourteen, and now, as he came up on his sixteenth birthday - just a week from today, it happened - he had gathered all of his credentials to apply to Marlin Military Academy, in Michigan. 

 

If he passed his four years at Marlin with flying colors - which he believed possible, given his dedication - he'd certainly begin his service with high recommendations.

 

Now, he just had to talk to his family.

 

Lip would be the easiest - his older brother tended to have a “Do whatever the hell you want, it's not my life” attitude. 

 

He might be worried, might try and talk Ian out of it, but it was unlikely he'd push too hard.

 

Debbie, he was fairly certain had already figured him out, junior detective that she was.

 

Carl wasn't likely to give two shits, and Liam was too little to likely note Ians absence at all.

 

The real problem would be his oldest sister, Fiona.

 

Fiona was fiercely protective of her family - understandably but almost cripplingly so - and believed her word to be the final in their affairs.

 

Of course it made sense - she had practically raised them while their unfaithful mother and deadbeat father did more drugs than any of them cared to guess.

 

Seven days to periodically talk to all of his siblings about this, and Ian had a plan.

 

At this moment, he sat on his bed, his hands in his lap, awaiting the return of his older brother, Phillip.

 

Lip would be the first to know.

 

He returned from “tutoring” (where he took SAT tests for dumb jocks and basically anyone who didn't think they could pass themselves, but still wanted into college) usually around three fifteen, which was almost five minutes past now.

 

Just as Ian went to check the LED alarm clock on his bedside table, the back door opened, and he heard heavy, even footfalls thumping up the stairway.

 

Lip rounded the corner, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

 

Fiona followed him, gesturing between the two. “Homework.” She said in a tone that didn't invite an objection.

 

“Yes, mom.” Ian muttered, earning a slightly annoyed look, before she actually stepped into the room and plucked the cigarette from between Lips teeth. 

 

“And don't smoke these inside.” She added, before tucking the cigarette behind her ear and continuing on to her own bedroom.

 

Lip shook his head in her wake, before tossing his backpack onto his bed.

 

“Well,” Ian dug his trap box out from the bottom drawer of his dresser. “She did say not to smoke  _ cigarettes _ in the house.” He pulled out his rolling papers and some bud, earning a smirk from Lip, who then joined him on his bed.

 

Ian rolled the joint in silence, before handing it and a lighter to his brother so he could put away his trap box.

 

When he was finished, Lip handed them back and gave Ian the honor-dictated first hit.

 

He lit the joint and the two sat in silence a moment longer, as he passed it to Lip.

 

It was the older of the two who finally broke the silence, as he handed the joint back to Ian. 

 

“So what is it?” 

 

Ian frowned as he took a hit. “What?” He coughed out, a bit confused as he passed.

 

Lip shook his head as he took another hit. “What’re you dying to tell me? It's written all over your face, so just spit it out.”

 

Ian didn't deny it, taking an extra big hit to prolong his excuse for not speaking. He'd need it for this conversation anyway.

 

Finally, he let out a big breath, smoke tumbling down around him, and coughed a bit.

 

“I'm thinking about going to military school.” He muttered, extending the joint towards lip without meeting his eyes.

 

“No shit?” Lip asked as he took the joint.

 

Ian nodded.

 

A moment of silence passed as Lip took another hit, and then seemed to study the joint a moment.

 

“Military  _ school _ ? You gotta pay for that shit?” he handed the joint back to Ian, who nodded again.

 

“I can get a scholarship, if Colonel Johns recommends me.” He took another hit. The joint was mostly burned up at this point.

 

“Johns - your, uh, ROTC guy?” Lip asked, looking back up at Ian, who still didn't meet his eyes.

 

The redhead nodded again, handing the joint back to his brother. “The one and only.”

 

Silence passed between the two. Ian was always caught off guard by how quickly and heavily joints took effect, as opposed to the other channels. 

 

His head felt a bit foggy, but it was still easy to tell his decision didn't sit well with his brother.

 

“You already get the scholarship?” He finally asked.

 

Ian shook his head. “I should know by the end of the week.” 

 

Lip handed him the joint, nodding. “Fiona know?” he finally voiced the question hanging in the air.

 

Ian hesitated, then shook his head, taking his final hit. “Not yet. Figured you'd be easier, and she'd be easier if I had you to back me up.” 

 

As he handed Lip the joint - which was barely a stub anymore - their eyes met, and Lip shook his head sharply before finishing the joint.

 

“What makes you think I'd back you up?” 

 

Ian was a bit taken aback by this, and only managed a stuttered, “What?”

 

Lip ground his jaw as he extinguished the last of the flames in the ashtray sitting on the window sill.

 

“Military school, really? What's next, armed forces? I-I-I just don't see how that's a good idea.”

 

Ian shook his now reeling head. “Yes, armed forces are next - the army, more specifically - you've always known that's what I wanted to do.” 

 

Lip shrugged. “I guess I just thought you would take us into account.” When Ian couldn't form a response, he continued. “You run off and join the military - then what? Huh? See while the rest of us get jobs, an-and pay the bills, you, what, you're free of that responsibility? You get a pass?” 

 

Ian stared at him now, shocked. “You obviously don't understand how this works - you serve off a contract - usually less than five years, I think I can go as low as one - and when it's up, they plop you back where you came from with credits and a letter of recommendation - pretty much any job I want in  _ this  _ town.” 

 

Lip let out a dry laugh. “Yeah unless you ship out. Unless there's a-a war, a federal emergency. Then what? You're gone. You could  _ die _ , and we may not even know. Do you seriously not get how fucking selfish that is?” 

 

Ian stood. “ _ Selfish _ ? To serve my country - to  _ protect _ people? You and I have two  _ very _ different definitions of selfish.” 

 

Lip stood too, with nearly a foot on Ian. “Yeah, I think it's selfish to abandon your family.” 

 

“I think it's selfish to insist I stay, keeping me from my dreams.”

 

“Your  _ dreams _ ? Ian, you're fifteen for fucks sake, your dreams could change twenty times in the next year alone!”

 

“Well they  _ haven't,  _ in the past decade, not that  _ you _ 'd notice, since you never bother to pull your head out of your own  _ ass _ !”

 

“ _ My  _ heads up  _ my _ ass? Says the kid making a life-altering decision at fifteen.”

 

“You know what,  _ fuck  _ you.” Ian shoved his brother back and stormed past him.

 

“Yeah, prime example of maturity, Ian!  _ Dumb _ ass.” He retorted as Ian almost barreled into Fiona in the hallway.

 

She frowned at Ian expectantly, and the teen shook his head at her as he passed her and continued downstairs.

 

He heard her ask Lip, “What the fuck was that?” as he made his way out the front door.


	2. Fuck You Very Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian decides to tell Fiona is plans, and she doesn't take it how he expects.
> 
> It starts to feel like he'll have to fight his way to military school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Soooo I'm sorry I don't like Lip all that much, aaand I'm just hoping that bias doesn't show through too much? I try to write him accurately, also to Ians perspective.
> 
> Enjoy!

He fumed as he hurried down the steps, taking to pacing back and forth to try and dispel some of his energy.

 

Lip had  _ no right _ to tell him what to do with his life. He'd called Ian  _ selfish _ ? Like doing something for yourself is automatically selfish. Like wanting to pursue your own aspirations makes you shitty.

 

Ian lit a cigarette from a pack left on the railing as he tried to gather himself.

 

And he'd acted so high and mighty,  _ praise be to Lip Gallagher _ , he thought, _ O Wiseman of the Fucking Southside. _

 

As he shook his head dismissively at the thought, the front door opened and closed softly.

 

Ian didn't turn to see who it was, as he didn't need to. He could recognise the even footfalls of his worried sister who hated it when he and Lip fought. Not that it happened all that often anymore.

 

“Hey,” Fiona greeted, a little too warm for comfort as she leaned against the white railing. 

 

She reached for his cigarette, and he handed it to her before resuming his pacing.

 

She took a drag, giving him time to think on whether he wanted to say anything.

 

After a moment, he slowed, retrieving the cigarette from his sister and taking an extended drag, buying his sweet time as he leaned against the handrail beside her.

 

When he had finished, he let out the deep breath. “Hey.” Was all he offered, and Fiona gave a small smile.

 

“You okay?” She asked, a strange edge to her voice that almost made the young teen squirm. 

 

Like a parent who asked if you had something you wanted to tell them, when they already knew the answer.

 

Ian shrugged as Fi took a drag. “Fine.” It wasn't a lie - he  _ was _ fine, or he would be soon enough.

 

Silence passed between them as Ian took another slow drag.

 

When he handed it back to Fiona, she met his eyes with an intense look. “Somethin’ on your mind?” She asked, her voice pitched slightly upward as it often did when she went into good-cop parent mode.

 

She took a drag before handing him back the cigarette, which he studied uncertainly.

 

He wondered if he should just tell her now. 

 

On the one hand, if she understood that it was his decision to make, and she supported him, it would be easier to tell her now.

 

On the other, if Lip was any indicator, she may blow it way out of proportion. Tell him he shouldn't. 

 

Tell him he  _ couldn't.  _

 

And if that happened, the effect on their relationship could be dire.

 

He watched the ember slowly eat away at the paper, before taking another long pull.

 

He felt Fiona’s eyes on his face, searching him with a concern and openness that only came from an older sister, with whom you'd been through a lot.

 

And  _ Jesus _ had they been through a lot.

 

He handed her back the cigarette. “Yeah,” He finally said. “Yes somethings on my mind but Fi… I don't know if you wanna hear it.” 

 

She seemed a bit confused, as she offered him the cigarette and exhaled smoke. “Ian, I'm always here when something's up. So what's eatin’ at ya?” she asked earnestly. 

 

He shook his head. “That's not what I meant. I know that - of course I do. But Fi, if I tell you this just know that I've already made up my mind. I'm not going to reconsider my decision, and you… you can't try and make me.”

 

Fiona looked more concerned and lost than ever as Ian took a final drag, as the cigarette was on its last legs.

 

Ian met her dark gaze steadily, not giving any ground. Slowly, she nodded. “Okay. Okay, Ian. What is it?”

 

Only now did he drop her gaze. “I'm enrolling in military school.” He looked out over the street as she put out the cigarette, not risking a glance her way. He heard her still. 

 

“Military school?” She asked, incredulous. He could hear her fighting back a lecture. 

 

“I can get a scholarship, I've already applied and I'll know by the end of the week.” He explained.

 

“End of the week? Jesus, when does it start?” She breathed with a dry laugh.

 

“August.” He told her.

 

“Fuck.” She muttered, but, as promised, didn't try to talk him out if it.

 

The two stood there in silence a moment longer, before she spoke up again. 

 

“This what you and Lip were fighting about?” She asked, an accusatory edge to her voice.

 

Ian just nodded. “I thought it'd be easier to tell you if he'd back me up. He thinks I'm being selfish.” 

 

Fiona’s silence suggested her agreement, and it made Ians stomach churn.

 

He had hoped they'd at least try to be supportive - or if not try, then  _ pretend _ . But he wouldn't be so lucky.

 

Fiona let out a long breath. “You've thought about this a long time?” She asked, wearily.

 

Ian nodded. “If two years is a long time.” 

 

Fi pursed her lips. “And you're sure it's what you want?” 

 

Ian nodded again.

 

Fiona stood from the rail to place a hand on his shoulder. “Okay. I want you to think about it more, but in the end it is your decision.” to his surprise, she pulled him into a tight hug, though both were a bit musty from the June air. “I love you. Be smart.” She said pointedly, before turning around to head inside.

 

Ian blinked a few times, and regained his composure before following her.

 

He saw Fiona and Lip in the kitchen, speaking in hushed voices as Debbie gave Ian an inquiring look from the dining room table. 

 

He decided now was as good a time as any to tell her; if she didn't already know she would soon.

 

“Hey, Debs.” He greeted her, sitting across from her as she gave a small smile. 

 

“‘Sup?” She returned, matching his unrevealing face.

 

Debbie had always been quick to pick up signals. She had started giving him knowing looks weeks ago, when he'd first started seriously considering the program.

 

She was also, however, twelve.

 

“So I, uh, might be going to military school.” She looked interested but unsurprised. 

 

“How long?” She asked, a hint of waver in her voice. 

 

“Four years.” She looked stricken, so he quickly clarified. “Minus breaks. I'll be back for two months during the summer, a week in the winter and a week in spring.”

 

“And that's the only time we'll see you?” She sounded slightly disappointed, but kept her composure. 

 

“Well, in person, yeah. But we can always talk on the phone, and sometimes I could take weekends down here.” He encouraged.

 

Debbie looked unconvinced, but gave him a warm smile. “If that's what's gonna make you happy, you have to go.” She assured him, and he took her hand across the table.

 

“Thanks for understanding Debs.” He kissed the top of her head as he stood, and went to join Fiona and Lip in the kitchen, as he was likely the subject matter anyway.

 

They grew quiet when he walked in, and Lip looked close to storming out.

 

“What, uh, what's up?” Ians eyes flicked uncertainly to Fiona, who looked uneasy.

 

She looked to Lip, as if for an answer, and the blonds expression softened slightly - which was  _ not _ what Ian expected.

 

“What was that?” Ian asked, earning another exchanged glance between the two.

 

Ian felt like a little kid again - when Monica and Frank would fight about the kids, and neither wanted to say what it was exactly, but he always knew. 

 

Just like now he knew. He'd just expected more violence and less concern, which was exactly what Fiona was looking at him with now.

 

“Ian,” She began slowly. “You know how Monica, when she got…  _ up, _ when she got manic, she would make all these plans - she'd apply for jobs, and draw up designs to remodel the attic, and start a garden, stuff like that?” 

 

The tone she took didn't make Ian feel any less like a dumb little kid.

 

“Yeah. Because of her bipolar.” He just wanted to be sure he was following.

 

“Right. You know bipolar disorder can be genetic, right?” She said it so gingerly, but to Ian it still felt like a smack in the face.

 

“Wait - what?” He managed, stepping away from his siblings as if he could distance himself from their words.

 

“Do you remember when Monica would get down, and she would sleep for days at a time?” Lip asked him.

 

Ian shook his head. “You guys can't  _ seriously  _ be making that comparison.” His head was beginning to reel with the weight of what they were saying.

 

“You remember last year, when you got super sick and you were in bed for about a week for it, and then you… just sorta stayed there?” 

 

The teen shook his head harder. “Yeah, I felt like  _ shit  _ I was getting over the flu.” He backed into the counter, making a pan clatter and effectively drawing the attention of everyone downstairs, being Debbie, Carl and Liam.

 

Now all five sets of eyes rested on Ian as blood roared in his ears.

 

Fiona stepped toward him, placing her hands on his shoulders and  _ fuck _ when did this room get so damn  _ small _ ? “Ian, all we’re sayin’ is, it can't hurt to get checked out. Before you commit to military school.”

 

Then it clicked. Ian crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “ _ That's  _ what this is about? Military school?”

 

Fiona’s eyes widened and she shook her head rapidly as the redhead rose to his full height. “You'd diagnose me with  _ bipolar _ , to keep me from going to military school?” 

 

“Ian-” Lip began, but his brother wasn't listening, shaking his head. 

 

“No you too Lip. This is a new fucking low from the both of you.” He pointed between them and let out a cold, dry laugh. “ _ God _ I can't  _ believe _ the both of you, using Monica -  _ Monica!  _ Against me. Sick.” 

 

And he turned from the kitchen, shrugging off Fiona’s hands and ignoring the chorus of protests as he made his way out the front door and down the steps to the sidewalk.

 

He heard the door open behind him, and didn't bother to check who it was. 

 

Instead, he  _ ran _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo,, that was intense...
> 
> Sorry? I mean, except that I'm not really? Kev and V are scheduled for the next chapter so be stoked! 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading this chapter! Make my week with a comment! Tell your friends about Don't Ask, Don't Tell or follow me on Tumblr @Strangest-Of-Things


	3. Not Like Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian takes a minute to cool 9ff, before Kevin steps in.
> 
> When he gets home, he faces the aftermath of his blowout with Lip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so honored, someone asked if they could translate and repost this! 
> 
> Guys listen,,, it means so much - I would love to be able to translare it myself to help people access it who don't speak English but I barely know any German and Spanish and I donr know any other languages at all, soooo yeah.
> 
> Thank you all for reading this far, strap in, please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, and enjoy the ride.

Ian was in great physical shape from ROTC. He ran, and he ran and he ran.

 

He ran from the very  _ thought _ of being like Monica.

 

He ran from all his horrid memories of her.

 

He ran from a lifetime of pain and resentment.

 

But mostly, he ran from the possibility of inflicting that same pain on the people he loved.

 

He ran from the  _ bullshit  _ of his siblings attempt at getting him to stay.

 

It was mid-june, about eighty degrees, and soon enough he was sweating like crazy.

 

He slowed as he neared the beach, near an old wooden bench which he eyed but didn't sit on.

 

It was getting to be later in the day, and Ian reached for his phone only to realize he didn't have it; it was likely sitting on his bed, unattended. 

 

He soon began to pace, chest heaving as he desperately tried to shake away the conversation he'd just had.

 

Ian was still fuming as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

 

He scanned the beach for a good sized stone and, when he found one, chucked it far out toward the lake, before resuming his pacing.

 

He continued in this manner, he didn't know how long; pacing, every so often pitching a fist sized rock into the water.

 

Before Ian knew it, the fiery glow of sunset was illuminating the horizon. 

 

He heard the bench behind him creak with the weight of a person.

 

He glanced back to see Kevin, watching him uncertainly with that  _ look _ . 

 

On Fiona it had passed as concern, and he hadn't noticed at first, but now he saw it loud and clear; a slight apprehension, like Ian was a bomb, and could be set off by the wrong words or look.

 

The ginger shook his head, saying nothing to his neighbor as he threw another rock.

 

“You know Fi’s looking for you,” Kevin stood, as it became apparent Ian was not planning on joining him.

 

“Good for her.” Was all Ian said, tossing another stone.

 

Silence passed between them, as Ian clenched his jaw.

 

“So, military school, huh?” Kev asked, thick arms crossing over his chest.

 

“Yep.” Ian kept his gaze fixed on the rippling water, crossing his own arms.

 

“You really think it's a good idea?” Ian could feel Kevin’s gaze on him.

 

“Yeah.” Again this was all he said.

 

“Why?”

 

Only now did Ian turn to face him. “Because it's what I want to do. Not because I'm having some sort of, of  _ psychotic break  _ or whatever they're saying back at home. Because it's  _ my life _ , and I'm to do with it as I  _ damn  _ well please, fuck you very much.” 

 

Kevin didn't flinch, didn't budge. The look in his eyes almost held… pity? And that  _ infuriated  _ Ian.

 

“Hey, no one said this was a psychotic break, alright? Your family is trying to understand, because they give a shit, so don't be a duck about it.” He said, repremansively. “Now, no one's denying it's your choice either, they just don't want you to make one you regret. So get your shit together, explain it to them, because they deserve that much.”

 

With that, Kev turned around to leave.

 

Ian felt even worse than he had. He was still angry, but now he felt guilty too.

 

He supposed he should have thought more about his family before deciding to leave.

 

He'd sort of figured he wouldn't be missed all that much.

 

With a heavy sigh, he turned to head back home.

  
  


By the time Ian reached the front gate, the sun had disappeared completely, and the temperature had dropped a bit.

 

Despite this, Fiona was perched on the railing, her arms crossed, looking worn out.

 

She gave him a smile as he came up the steps, and when he didn't respond, grabbed his bare arm.

 

He turned to face her, and tried to keep the venom out of his voice when he asked, “What?”

 

She chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment. “Ian… I know this sounds super fuckin’ cliche, but you know, no matter what, we just want what's best for you. All of us. Gallaghers, we look out for each other, right?”

 

Ian pressed his lips. “I know Fi, but I'm fine. This is what I want to do, and I'm doing it.”

 

She looked a bit crestfallen,  but offered a small smile. “I want to trust that. Jesus,  _ fuck _ \- you know I do. I'd feel a lot better if you'd just do the evaluation.” 

 

Ian let out a breath, pulling his arm from her light grip. “I don't have what Monica has. We're not wasting money to have a doctor tell us that.” He spat.

 

Ian didn't look at her face as he continued inside, to see Lip, Debbie and Carl scramble away from the porch-facing window.

 

He shot Lip a dark look, and continued past them and upstairs.

  
  


This day had  _ not _ gone as planned, he thought as he lay on his back, studying the ceiling.

 

With a huff, he pulled his trap box out for the second time, smoking unceremoniously from his pipe.

 

He opened the window so the room wouldn't stink too bad - fuck if the neighbors cared (which he doubted) because the smell alone wasn’t reason enough to call the cops.

 

As he exhaled, he pinched the bridge of his nose, mulling over the day’s events.

 

He leaned on the window sill, the night air now refreshingly cool on his face, as he exhaled smoke directly outside.

 

He knew Lip or Carl were bound to walk in eventually, but for the moment he revered the solitude.

 

After a few minutes, when the bowl was mostly cashed, he put away his pipe and sat back down on his bed to check his phone, leaving the window open and enjoying the slight breeze.

 

He had two missed calls from Fiona, one from Lip and one from Kev and V.

 

Fiona and Lip had both left him a voicemail, but he didn’t bother with that at the moment, instead moving back to the window.

 

He looked down to their backyard - it wasn’t much, they had gotten an above-ground pool last summer, and it sat serene in the cool night.

 

It wasn’t a far enough fall that he’d be seriously injured, even if he fell badly.

 

After another moment’s consideration, he swung his legs over the sill, bracing his hands against the inside wall just in case.

 

Then, tentatively, he lowered one hand to his side.

 

He took a deep breath of fresh air, exhaling contentedly. 

 

For a moment, all of his problems seemed insignificant.

 

How could he be upset ten

* * *

* * *

* * *

feet off the ground, with the night breeze threatening his balance and nothing else?

 

Then he heard the door click open.

 

Ian didn’t budge. He could tell by the heavy steps that it was Lip, despite his lack of acknowledgement.

 

He heard his brother hesitate, as if considering turning around and leaving, and then eventually close the door.

 

The ginger glanced back to see Lip standing in front of the door, watching him.

 

With a shudder against the chill, Ian climbed down from the windowsill, pushing it closed behind him, and moved to sit back down on his bed.

 

He looked back up at Lip, who was still just looking at him with that same look Fiona and Kevin had given him - somewhere between fear and pity.

 

Ian gave his brother a look that he hoped was harsh, and Lip blinked uncertainly, before turning to his own bed.

 

_ Good, _ Ian thought,  _ maybe he’ll back off _ .

 

And he seemed to, at least for the moment. He grabbed some clothes from his dresser, before disappearing out the door again.

 

Ian heard the shower turn on down the hall.

 

He half worried Fiona would stop by and try to talk to him again, but tried to push the thought from his head, instead decided to see how many pushups he could do before Lip got out of the shower.

  
  


When his older brother did finally rejoin him - he’d stopped counting somewhere around thirty, and stopped doing them somewhere around sixty out of boredom - he still didn’t say a word.

  
So Ian collected a pair of basketball shorts to go and take his own shower before bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo a little angsty?
> 
> Sorry I'm really bad at pacing and it's all over the place but it gets bettee I promise!
> 
> Leave a comment tomake my day or hit me up on Tumblr, @Strangest-of-things


	4. Happy Happy Birthday, From All Of Us To You!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone! I'm going through a bit of a trying period though I won't bore you with the details. 
> 
> I'll try to update more often in the future!

The next morning was weird.

 

The dynamic between himself, Lip and Fiona had been thrown off greatly.

 

Both regarded him strangely; Fiona was too sincere, Lip weirdly distant, except for the lingering glances.

 

So after the morning train wreck, Ian decided it was probably best if he just avoided them as best he could.

 

He went about his day taking care not to see either of them, until he went to bed.

 

He pretended to be asleep when Lip went to bed, not that the blond noted him anyway.

  
  


The next day, Ian did the same thing, not enthusiastic to speak to any of them.

 

His birthday was in three days now, three days until he should get his letter from Marlin.

 

He knew he just had to wait it out; eventually, if he stood his ground, Fiona and Lip would cave.

 

They had to. 

 

The next day passed, and before Ian knew it, he was going to bed the night before his birthday.

  
  


His bleary-eyed, half-asleep self was surprised to find arms around him.

 

He blinked in the harsh light - his window faced east, so early in the morning they got a lot of sunlight - and found himself wrapped in a tight hug.

 

“Happy birthday!” Debbie’s voice came from the blob on top of him. 

 

“Thanks, Debs.” He chuckled.

 

She released him from her embrace, only to grab his hand. 

 

“Come on, Fiona’s making breakfast.” She was almost bouncing with anticipation, as Ian blinked and sat up groggily.

 

The ginger grabbed his phone with his free hand, to check the time. “It’s barely eight in the morning, what’s she doing up?” He asked, as he let Debbie drag him out of his room and down the stairs.

 

Debbie was pointedly silent, and he could see a smirk on the corner of her mouth.

 

The smell of pancakes drifted up through the air, and Ian let an easy smile settle onto his face.

 

Sure enough, when he reached the kitchen, Carl, Lip, Fiona, Kev and V all shouted, “Surprise!”

 

Ian’s smile grew into a grin, as Kevin and Veronica made their way over to him.

 

“Happy birthday, man.” Kevin gave him a hug.

 

“Happy sweet sixteen, baby.” V added as she gave him her own hug.

 

“Thanks guys,” He returned with a small laugh, and to V he added, “I’m pretty sure sweet sixteen is just for girls, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

 

Fiona gave him a warm smile from behind the counter, as Debbie guided him to the other side. 

 

“Happy birthday, Ian.” Fi said warmly, handing him a plate of pancakes with a candle stuck into them.

 

He gave her a smile, before setting them down on the table so he could go around and give her a hug.

 

She squeezed him so hard, he thought his eyes might pop out.

 

Only Lip was quiet, standing in the kitchen and watching Ian, giving a smile when the ginger met his eyes.

 

Ian went to sit down, as Fiona turned off the stove and everyone retrieved their plates.

 

“Okay,” She moved to light the candle sticking out of his pancakes. “Ready? Haaa…” Everyone joined her, and they sang him happy birthday, and then waited as he blew out the candle, wish in mind.

 

Then everyone clapped, and the room exploded into commotion; everyone finding silverware and seats, and chattering to one another.

 

Ian watched his family fondly, a smile settling onto his face.

 

Then, he ate. The breakfast was nice, they all sat together, talking and joking, and after the week Ian had had it came as a welcome change.

 

He remembered the letter from Marlin and glanced apprehensively toward the mail slot.

 

Obviously the mail wasn’t there yet - it usually arrived around one, if the drunk on the next street over didn’t give Gail any trouble.

 

Ian turned back to his pancakes, finishing them off.

 

Once he had, Debbie spoke up. “I wanna give him my present first!” And she disappeared into the living room.

 

Lip and Fiona both gave little smiles and then took off up the stairs.

 

When Debbie came back, she handed him a sparkly red gift bag, about five inches tall and three wide.

 

Ian glanced at the staircase. “Should I wait for-?” But they were already coming back downstairs, Fiona carrying another gift bag and Lip an envelope.

 

With a warm smile to his older siblings, Ian dug into the bag, and closed his hands around something small and smooth.

 

Or, several somethings.

 

He pulled out a charm bracelet, with five silver charms on it and one gold.

 

“Each charm represents one of us,” She told him. “The gold one is you.” The gold charm was a miniature, golden army man.

 

“That one’s Fiona,” She pointed to a heart with wings. “Lip,” A book. “Me,” A heart with smaller hearts coming off of it. “Carl,” A skateboard. “And Liam.” The last charm was a crib. “So when you leave,” She added, “You have something to keep us all on your mind.”

 

Ian felt himself getting misty eyed as he looked at the little charms. “Thanks, Debs.” He pulled her into another hug, holding her there for a long moment. “This was really thoughtful, I love it.” He put the bracelet on his wrist.

 

“Wow, Debbie.” Fiona piped up. “Way to show us all up.” She added with a laugh, and Debbie blushed a little bit. “Well,” Fiona continued. “My gift isn’t as intense as that, but…” She walked over and handed him the bag. It was heavy.

 

“Whoa…” He muttered at the unexpected weight. He set it down beside his chair, and saw black metal jutting out. He frowned at some complicated metal contraption. 

 

He was saved from having to ask when Fiona spoke again. “It’s a total upper body workout bar. You just brace it to the top of a door frame, and it works as a pull up bar, or… Jeez, I dunno. The guy at the P90X store said it was good.” She laughed.

 

Ian gave her a warm smile. “Thank you, Fi. It’s perfect.” He stood to give her a hug, and Lip came down the stairs the rest of the way with his envelope.

 

The corner of Lip’s mouth tilted up, and as he handed it to Ian he leaned over and whispered, “I have a real present for you later.” As he leaned back away, he made a smoking gesture, and Ian understood.

 

Then his gaze fell to the envelope Lip had handed him, and he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach as all the air seemed to leave his lungs.

 

The return address on the envelope, read, _First_ _Sergeant Theo Williams, Marlin Military Academy, Kingsley MI, 49649._

 

He was the addressee.

 

“I went down to the post office this morning to get it.” Lip explained.

 

Ian glanced around, as everyone watched him expectantly. Fiona spoke up. “You don’t gotta open in in front of everyone. If you’d rather do it in private, we understand.”

 

Ian shook his head. “I thought you were all dead set against it.” He glanced between his two older siblings.

 

Lip shook his head, and Fiona’s face fell a bit. “It’s like I said before, it’s your life Ian. It’s your decision.”

 

Another moment of silence passed, and Veronica huffed. “Would y’all just open the damn thing,  _ before _ we’re all old and crippled?”

 

Ian let out a small laugh, nodding. “Right. Okay, let’s do this then.” He tore into the envelope.

 

The print was fine, neat, and and to the point.

 

_ Ian Gallagher, _

_ If you received this letter, you have applied for a full or partial scholarship for Marlin Military Academy for the upcoming school year. Requirements for this financial aid include but are not limited to: at least six months of JROTC, ROTC, ROTCAF or community service, a 3.0 Grade Point Average, a letter of recommendation from an officer of rank, and a physical evaluation report, signed by an active duty officer. _

_ You have successfully submitted all of these things, and we are pleased to inform you that you are eligible for a partial scholarship in the upcoming year. _

_ This aid covers: Partial tuition and room and board. This aid does not cover any supplies you may need for the coming school year, including school related books, assignment supplies, etc. _

_ Thank you for choosing Marlin Academy, we hope you enjoy your time with us. _

_ First Sergeant Theo Williams _

_ Unites States Marine Corps _

  
  


Ian almost couldn’t breathe.

 

He’d made it. He’d  _ done _ it.

 

He’d willed it, he’d worked for it, and here it was.

 

Two long years of ROTC, keeping himself painstakingly in shape and in great health, had paid off.

 

“Well?” Veronica asked impatiently, reminding him of his audience.

 

“I-I made it. I made the scholarship.” He jumped at a loud  _ pop! _ sound from behind him, and turned to see Kevin with a fizzing bottle of champagne.

 

Fiona’s soft smile was an unreadable mask, impossible to tell what she was thinking behind it, and that made Ian uncomfortable.

 

Veronica and Fiona drank champagne - Fiona gave Debbie a sip of hers, and Ian tried it too - everyone else had beer.

 

After about half an hour, when the hype had worn down a bit, Ian and Lip excused themselves so Lip could give Ian his present.

 

He pulled out a fat blunt, and Ian couldn’t help but ogle it.

 

“And, though whether you use them together with this or separate is up to you-” He was saying as Ian deposited the stogie in his trap box and he dug into his backpack. He pulled out a box of tissues, and what looked like a magazine?

 

… Oh.

  
  


_ Oh. _

 

The front of the magazine, Ian saw as he gingerly accepted it, was a blonde, featured in a garment labelled ‘titty tassels’, as that was all they covered.

 

Lip laughed at the dumbstruck look on his brother’s face. “Happy birthday. I figure you’ll need it now more than ever.”

 

“Um, Lip, you really didn’t have to-”

 

“Come on man, don’t be embarrassed. It’s totally normal.”

 

What else could Ian do. “Yeah, uh, thanks.” He moved to set the magazine down on his bed, and Lip pulled out a joint.

 

“No reason we shouldn’t make this party more fun too.” And with a smirk, he lit the joint.

 

Ian couldn’t help but smile, as Lip passed him the joint.

 

A heavy and slightly uncomfortable silence fell on the two, and Ian’s spark of hope for returning to normalcy dampened.

 

They were halfway through the joint  before Lip spoke up. “Well, this is awkward.”

  
Ian let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, pretty damn.” He agreed, passing the joint back to his brother.

 

Unfortunately, the ice was too thick to be broken by a single relatable comment such as that.

 

Silence fell over them again.

 

After they finished the joint, Lip turned to leave and Ian caught him by the arm. 

 

“We’re okay though, right?” He resented the worried edge that crept into his voice, betraying his casual facade.

 

Lip pressed his lips together, before patting Ian on the shoulder. “Always.” And he turned and left.

 

When Ian followed him, he threw back over his shoulder, “Even if you  _ are _ a dumbass.” 

 

Ian just scoffed as the two went the rest of the way downstairs.

 

“Well, it smells like we missed the party!” Kevin whined.

 

Ian gave a sheepish grin, and Kev gave him a heavy pat on the back. 

 

“I’m just messin’ with you bro - happy birthday for sure.” He winked, and Fiona shot them a disapproving look but said nothing.

 

Now the Gallaghers were mediocre at a lot of things, like paying rent, being responsible and school and all that, but if there was one thing they really knew how to do, they knew how to  _ fucking _ party.

 

Kevin and Veronica had brought their big radio with the heavy bass speakers, and some tapes it would play.

 

So they got the music going, Fiona shared a joint with Kev and V, and drinks all around had everyone loosened up and in a good mood.

 

Ian himself had a couple beers and, content with the slight buzz from the alcohol and his current high, reclined on the couch to bask in his good mood.

 

Fiona and V were dancing to the music, each with a beer in hand (he supposed they’d finished off the champagne when he was upstairs), while Kevin watched his girlfriend intensely, Carl waited for someone to take their eyes of their beer long enough for him to snatch it, and Lip plopped down on the couch beside Ian.

 

“So I got a hummer today.” He said under his breath, so no one but Ian could hear over the music.

 

“What’s the law on sex with pets?” This earned Ian an elbow in the ribs.

 

“Karen Jackson. She had a C in physics, needed a B.” He smirked at Ian.

 

“Bullshit, or you wouldn’t have waited this long to tell me.”

 

“Oh yeah, five hours.” They both laughed at this, before he continued. “Besides, I’ve never seen you rush to tell me.”

 

Ian felt panic start to rise in his chest, and he quickly fought it down, offering a shrug. “Yeah, but I’m  _ me _ . You’re… Well, you.” 

 

Lip pressed his lips together, like he wasn’t sure he was ready to accept that as an answer, but eventually relented. “Fair enough. Have you ever… Though?”

 

Ian looked down to his lap, heat rising to his cheeks. “Once.” He offered, though it wasn’t, he was sure, what Lip imagined.

 

“‘Once’? That’s all? Who? When? Where? And what made this one girl special, if only once?” Lip pressed, and Ian just shrugged again.

 

“I don’t… You know what? This conversation is way too personal.” The truth was it only  _ had _ happened once, but it wasn’t any of the girls Lip would think of.

 

Lip was watching him, looking offended. “I’ve always kept you up to date-”

 

“Yeah,” Ian laughed, “Even when I didn’t want to know.”

 

Lip threw up his hands in resignation. “Fine, don’t tell me. I bet she was just so bad it traumatized you. Or alternately,” He added, “So  _ good _ you don’t wanna think about it.”

 

Ian shook his head. “Whatever you wanna think man.”

 

Lip punched him lightly in the arm. “Well, I’m gonna go have a cigarette, if you’d like to join me, I welcome your prestigious accompaniment.” He joked, before standing.

 

Ian did get up and follow him, and the two talked and joked for about five minutes, before the rest of the party followed them outside, with scattered complaints of Ian ‘hiding away from his own party’, and a lot of cigarettes all around.

 

The rest of the party carried on with the easy air that years of friendship brought, everyone hanging out and chatting, smoking and drinking, well past the time the sun dipped below the horizon (of course they’d eaten a few times throughout the day).

 

The night blurred together as it wore on between the alcohol and drugs (plants, really).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your kind words and kudos! It keeps me going!
> 
> I'm at a rough point right now, and with school starting in a few weeks I'll be super busy, but I'll try to find time to write! Updates might come less often, and I'm sorry about that, but I'll do the best I can! 
> 
> Again thank you guys for your support, for more content follow me on Tumblr, @strangest-of-things


	5. Saudade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saudade: noun  
>  A strong feeling of melancholy or longing for   
>  a person or thing that is absent or is being   
>  left behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long! I've been super busy with school and Explorers and stuff, but I'm trying to catch up! I don't know how consistent updates will be since I almost never write as of late, but I'm trying please be patient with me :) 
> 
> That being said, fasten your safety straps, and keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times for one HELL of a roller coaster!

The next two months were… Strange, to say the least.

 

They mostly fell back into their usual rhythm, the only offset being Ian’s impending departure.

 

When July came around, he started to feel nostalgic for the things he did every day.

 

For example, one cool morning, he came downstairs early, grabbed himself a cup of black coffee - he was trying to kick the habit by cutting out the cream and sugar, the parts he really liked, but so far it hadn’t worked - and found Fiona the only one awake.

 

The two sat on the back porch in the early light, sipping coffee, smoking, and talking.

 

That was it. Afterward, Ian had excused himself to the restroom to pull himself back from the brink of tears when he realized pretty soon he wouldn’t have that ease with anyone. 

He wouldn’t have lazy mornings with Fiona, he wouldn’t have smoke sessions with Lip - he was saving that blunt his older brother had given him - he wouldn’t advise Debbie on her misguided, preteen love life, he wouldn’t have to answer the door to cops dropping off Frank, drunk off his ass midday, or Carl, picked up for one act of destructive mischief or another.

 

He felt like he was living in a memory, like the days of these easy interactions were already over, so when he said goodbye and boarded the bus to Michigan, he had already been gone a while where it really counted.

 

So he felt a strange sort of numb as he waved to Carl and Debbie out the window, to Liam sitting on Fiona’s hip.

 

He’d waited so long for this, he thought as he straightened in his seat, his backpack heavy on his lap with everything he’d thought reasonable to take from home, but now he felt so little.

 

He shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts, and reached into the front pocket of his backpack for something he figured he’d use a lot in the next few months; his headphones.

 

He unwound the white earbuds and plugged them into his phone - Fiona had insisted they get him one so he could stay in contact from school - and played his newly downloaded selection of music.

  
  


The drive was almost five hours, and Ian might have slept except for the layover in Muskegon halfway through, causing them to slow to a stop right as he was drifting off.

 

About three hours after, they pulled up in front of a small, nondescript grey building.

 

Ian looked out his window as they slowed, and saw a military-esque vehicle, manned by two men in uniform with rifles. Standing at attention .

 

In front of the vehicle was an important looking woman and two other men in uniform, backed by about ten younger looking men and women in civilan clothing with backpacks at their feet, standing at parade rest.

 

Ian, along with about six others around his age, stepped off the bus and were immediately greeted by the barking voice of the woman who looked to be in charge.

 

“Attention, cadets.” She said, her voice very stiff. “I want to make something  _ crystal _ clear to you at this moment and going forward.” She drew her hands behind her back, and began to pace before the teens, and Ian straightened up, respectfully looking her in the eyes. “I am First Sergeant Theo Williams, and I am retired from the service. I have chosen to dedicate my skills to shaping our future military youth, such as yourselves. I am commandant at Marlin Academy, and while you are residing there, you will answer to me, and me alone. You will reply with ‘yes ma'am’, and ‘no ma'am ’. You will  _ not _ be shown leniency if you misbehave. You will not be allowed to act however you please. You will learn to speak only in turn. You will learn to listen to your superiors without question. You. Will.  _ Learn _ . As Marlin Academy is  _ my _ domain, so it will be to my standards you are held. If you cannot live up to these standards of basic respect…” Her eyes seemed to settle on Ian, who found himself toying with Debbie's bracelet behind his back. “You will be punished however I see fit.”

 

Ian could practically  _ feel _ the fear her speech inspired in the teens around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a young blond boy shaking at the knees.

 

Williams surveyed the group. “Understood?” She barked, her green eyes glinting.

 

Silence greeted her.

 

“Am I  _ understood _ ?” She repeated, her voice raised slightly.

 

A burst of “Yes ma’am”’s and “Yes sir”’s and agreements followed, and Williams seemed satisfied, until her gaze settled on something behind Ian.

 

“Problem, cadet?” She asked through gritted teeth, and everyone turned to see who she was looking at.

 

Ian had to crane his neck and he still couldn’t see through the throng of people, when the answer came. 

 

“What? No. Fuck you askin’ me for?” Ian was surprised to hear a thick chicago accent - they weren’t far off from there, but he hadn’t noticed anyone of note board at his bus station.

 

Everyone took a step back when Williams’ gaze went dark, clearing a path for her to get to him without trouble, and for Ian to see the cretin who had spoken so harshly to a superior officer.

 

He was kind of short, probably about Ian’s age, with dark hair and a pale complexion.

 

His mouth twisted downward in a way that gave him a natural scowl, and he glared up at Williams with a lit cigarette in his hand.

 

“Would you like to repeat that, Cadet?” She hissed, composed despite the threat in her voice.

 

“Yeah, sure, I said fuck off.” He said nonchalantly, taking a drag from his cigarette. Something about him was strangely familiar, though Ian realized they could have passed each other a million times on the street and that could be all he remembered him from.

 

Williams’ gave a scary sort of calm smile. “What’s your name, Cadet?” She asked, eerily calm as she continued to advance on him.

 

The boy was leaning on the bus, and glanced around with a look like,  _ ‘Are you kidding me? _ ’.

 

Ian had to admire his bravery.

 

“Milkovich.” There was now a slight tension in his voice, like ‘ _ maybe I shouldn’t have pressed here _ ’, but his face betrayed nothing.

 

The name also struck a chord with Ian, and he realized where he knew him from; they had lived down the street from each other their whole lives.

 

Ian supposed he’d never actually  _ met _ the youngest Milkovich brother, he just new the name was  sort of notorious in the neighborhood. 

 

He could have seen him at school, or around the neighborhood, or even holding up a bank for all he knew.

 

“Well, Milkovich,” Williams continued with a strange sort of measured tone. “This school can be a dream. Hundreds of students save up and train and work hard to make it here. And they are beaten down into shape, into…  _ Submission _ .” The way she said it even frightened Ian a bit. “Others are sent here, tuition paid in full for the year, because their parents don’t know what else to do to help them. Don’t know how else to  _ fix _ them. Do you know what those kids get here?” 

 

Milkovich blinked slowly, his eyes defiant. “What would that be?” He spat, replacing the cigarette between his lips.

 

The edge of Williams’ lip curled up as she loomed over him. “Also beaten into shape. Into submission.” She plucked the cigarette from his mouth and then, like a flipped switch she turned around and addressed the group again. “When I call your name, you will board the truck, and when everyone is accounted for, we will leave for the academy.” She walked back over to the two officers, dropping the cigarette and stepping on it on her way, and the one on her right handed her a clipboard.

 

She started rattling off names, some of the kids who’d gotten off the bus, and some of the kids who were standing in front of it until no one was left standing outside.

 

As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, she spoke loudly and clearly over a speaker, since the front and back cars weren’t directly attached.

 

“When we reach the facility, you will proceed where directed by the ushers waiting for you. You will undergo a bag-check, and then be directed further. Listen well. Answer ‘yes sir’ to your superiors. By showing respect you earn it. Expect no leniency or favoritism in light of this.” She spoke drily and to the point, and Ian admired it.

 

Milkovich was sitting across from Ian, the green light coming through the tarp casting softer lighting on his features, and Ian had the chance to notice how sharp they really were; his angular face and high cheekbones complimented his complexion in an odd fashion, making him look almost ghostly, but round cheeks averted any illusion of undereating or malnourishment.

 

“Fuck you lookin’ at?” 

 

Ian hadn’t even realized it, but he must have been staring. 

 

He almost said ‘you’re beautiful’, which wouldn’t have been a lie, but he liked his nose the shape it was, and didn’t adore the idea of it getting broken, so instead he said, “The way you talked to Williams back there,” He lowered his voice so the whole car wouldn’t hear him say it. “That was pretty ballsy.”

 

Milkovich raised his eyebrows. “Sure, I guess. No reason to gape like some sort of fag or something though, Jesus.”

 

Ian flinched slightly at the use of the word  _ ‘fag _ ’, but played it off with a small smile. “Yeah I guess.”

  
  


The rest of the drive neither said anything, as Ian studied the glinting charms on his bracelet.

 

A few conversations picked up between the other cadets, some of them knowing each other and others just relating their situations and stemming small talk from it.

 

The ride slowed to a stop within an hour of taking off, so it wasn’t too bad.

 

He knew he should’ve been excited as they pulled up to wrought iron gates for a security check before they entered the grounds,  he knew he should’ve been excited when the school came into view - a beautiful stone monument to discipline and education - but he was having trouble feeling any of it.

 

Maybe he just missed home, but he felt a little sad, a little nostalgic, but that was it. 

 

He shook his head as they were instructed from their truck to a row of small rooms.

 

Inside, a tall man closed the door behind them, and then, with gloved hands, dug through Ians bag. “Name?” He called.

 

“Gallagher, Ian.” Ian stood a bit straighter, as the man laid out all the contents of his backpack; his headphones, cell phone, a few sets of clothes, a coffee press(he hadn’t quite managed to kick that habit, and wanted it just in case), a journaling notebook, another spare just in case, his wallet, some pens and pencils, and - this made Ian cringe, as he’d forgotten to take those out of his pack before leaving - rolling papers and a lighter.

 

The older man looked up at Ian as he set down the rolling papers and lighter. 

 

“Guess you’re a pyro.” He said in a strained voice, like he was praying Ian would say that was all it was because it was less paperwork.

 

Ian just nodded.

 

“Okay, I have to confiscate these for now. With good behaviour, you can get them back in a week or two, depending on how things go your first week here.” His tone held a hint of a threat, and again Ian just nodded. 

 

“Now, I’m going to go get a medic, and he’ll do your examination.”

 

He left before Ian could press what ‘examination’ he was talking about.

 

Ian was only alone for a few minutes when another, darker man walked in, flashing Ian a bright smile.

 

He glanced at a clipboard. “Gallagher?” He asked.

 

Ian stood up straight, drawing his fingertips to his brow in a crisp salute. “Yes sir.”

 

The man smiled brighter. “At ease, cadet.” He said, a little warmly, extending a hand for Ian to shake. “Caleb Smith, U.S. Medical Corps, nice to meet you.” Ian shook his hand with a smile.

 

He was starting to think they could be friends.

 

“Okay, strip.”

 

Ian blinked, hoping he had misheard.

 

Smith must have sensed his confusion, because he let out a sharp sigh. “You need to strip and submit to a weapons search.”

 

Ian tried to get his heartbeat under control. Caleb Smith was not a bad looking guy, and if he started checking Ian for weapons while the teen was completely exposed…

 

He took a breath, nodding his head before he began to unzip his pants.

 

He was surprised how easy it was. The search was very medical and not sexual at all; no lingering touches, nothing soft by anyone’s standards, and the rubber gloves made his hands cold.

 

At the end, Smith handed him back his clothes - which he had also searched - and turned away while Ian dressed.

 

Thank God for that bit of dignity he was allowed to keep.

 

Smith handed him back his bag, and spoke before he let go. “You’ll take your bag to your room, which is in the…” He pulled out a key card, and handed it to Ian after reading it. “ _ A _ building, that key will get you in - room 33 - and you have twenty minutes to get to the courtyard on the south side of the building for a debriefing.”

 

Ian frowned. “Wait, twenty minutes from when?”

 

Smith checked his watch. “Two minutes ago.” 

 

“Shit,” He muttered under his breath. “Um, anything else, Sir?” He asked.

  
Smith shook his head, chuckling a bit. “You’re excused.” And Ian nodded politely, before taking off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny how,,,, five chapters in,,,,, we finally meet Mickey? 
> 
> Again this isn't my usual style, it's a bit more of a slow burn, so if my pacing is a bit wonky please excuse.
> 
> (Also that not to Caleb is me introducing him in a way that excludes him as a love interest intentionally, because of That Trick Shit that I'm not down for :) )
> 
> WE WILL HAVE MORE MICKEY  
> This isn't going to be the most they see of each other, just you wait.


	6. Welcome to Camp Getfucked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is starting to get settled, and runs into that Milkovich boy again, with an interesting twist catching them both off guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK BACK BACK BACK AGAIN
> 
> Its me. And also Mickey. And also FUCK SEASON SEVEN BECAUSE IM WATCHING IT NOW AND ITS SO GOOD SOOOOOO YEAH

It took him a bit to find the dorm buildings, but not too long.

 

He practically tossed his bag into the room and continued to the courtyard.

 

Once there, Ian realized for the first time just how many students there were at the school.

 

Lining the courtyard, ranging from looking totally at home to terrified beyond words, were what must have been close to a thousand young men and women, some in uniforms, looking a little older.

 

Some wore patches and markings of rank, while some were still in civilian clothing.

 

Some with wild, long messes of hair, and some with it buzzed off.

 

They all stood around, some groups of older teens in matching uniforms chatted amongst themselves, and some younger wandered around looking ready to burst into tears.

 

Sergeant Williams came out into the great stone courtyard and it fell silent.

 

She looked around for a moment, then shouted, "Fall in!"

 

There was a moment of scrambling and confusion, before everyone fell into a simple, single column line.

 

Ian didn’t dare look Williams in the eye as she paced in front of him.

 

“Those of you who are new here, welcome.” She shouted into a megaphone, and her voice commanded silence and respect. No one defied that command. “Those of you who were here last year, you will proceed to the library to receive your class schedules shortly. Those of you who stayed over the summer and already have your class schedules, you will be dismissed to your dorms. Is everyone clear?” This was returned with a sharp chorus of,  _ “Yes Ma'am! _ ”.

 

Ian couldn’t help a small smile at the uniformity of it all.

 

“Summer students, you are excused.” Almost a quarter of the students left - including a large portion of those in civvies. “Last years class, you are to proceed in an orderly fashion to the library. You are excused.” Now a huge chunk of the group left, including all the students left in uniforms and a great number of those who weren't as well.

 

This left, by Ian’s estimate, about three hundred students, all in civilian clothing, some with their backpacks still over their backs.

 

A couple of them looked like they’d like anything better than to be there, but didn’t dare challenge Williams.

 

“Now we will acknowledge the elephant in the room.” Williams spoke up again. “I am not  _ daft, _ and do not think me so.” She sniffed importantly. “I understand that a great deal of you are  _ not _ here by choice, and do  _ not _ think you will gain from this experience.”

 

There was a grumble of agreement, and Williams whistled impossibly loud, returning the teens to silence. “ _ However _ !” She boomed. “That absolutely does  _ not _ excuse any inappropriate behavior. This is a place of learning, and of betterment. And I am going to do everything in my power to ensure that you leave her smarter and better. Understood?!” She shouted.

 

“Yes Ma'am!” Ian had expected another chorus, but he supposed without the older students there, not many spoke up, leaving his loud and certain voice to echo almost alone.

 

It took a lot of willpower to keep his chin level and not make eye contact when Williams walked over and gave him a once over.

 

“What’s your name, cadet?” She had lowered her megaphone so only Ian and the other cadets in close range could hear.

 

“Gallagher, Ma'am.” Ian said coolly, still not looking her in the eye.

 

“You served before, Gallagher?” She asked.

 

“No Ma'am, only Junior Reserve Officers Training Corps.” He swallowed thickly.

 

“JROTC? Who was your instructor?”

 

“Colonel Sam Johnson.”

 

“Johnson… Chicago?” She clarified.

 

“Yes Ma'am.”

 

She nodded slowly, and Ian felt like his heart might jump out of his chest.

 

“Where are you rooming, Gallagher?  _ A _ building, right? What room?”

 

“Yes Ma'am,” Ian repeated, his jaw tight as he forced his breathing to say even, even as he could feel everyone’s attention on him. “Room 33.”

 

“Milkovich!” She suddenly barked into the megaphone.

 

“Yeah boss?” Milkovich called, half sarcastically across the field.

 

“Get over here, Cadet.”

 

Ian watched out of the corner of his eye as the youngest Milkovich brother sauntered over, no form whatsoever, no respect, no salute, nothing.

 

When he was beside her, Williams gestured to Ian, as if his very presence was self explanatory.

 

Ian snapped his gaze back up and away from the two, as the other boy watched him expectantly.

 

Finally, after what felt like  _ ages _ of them scrutinizing him, the other teen spoke up.

 

“I don’t get it.” Was all he said.

 

Williams sniffed indignantly. “There is nothing  _ to _ get, Milkovich. This is what a cadet should look like. At attention when called  - you should be taking  _ notes _ .” She pointed out.

 

Then, the other boy did something that Ian wasn’t sure if it was brave or just stupid; he  _ laughed _ .

 

And Ian couldn’t decide if that was the worst or the best sound he’d ever heard.

 

Williams narrowed her eyes. "We're here to help you, cadet.  _Right_?" She gave Milkovich a pointed look

 

Milkovich looked between them like it had to be some sort of inside joke, and he was waiting for the punchline.

 

After a moment’s deliberation, he shook his head. “Yeah, that’s real fuckin’ cute. This?” He pointed to Ian like he was a funny picture. “This is what a  _ bitch _ looks like.” Now he turned to address Ian. “Whipped as  _ fuck _ .”

 

“That’s what I figured,” Williams had that same little smirk she’d had earlier when he first spoke out. “Milkovich, I’ll be needing your room key back. You’re moving.” She turned her gaze back to Ian. “To the  _ A _ building.”

 

The smug look fell off the Milkovich boy’s face, as he began shaking his head. “The fuck I am, I already dropped off my shit-”

 

“You will have until eighteen hundred hours to collect your things and turn in your key.” 

 

“No fuckin’ way-”

 

“And, from now on, every word unfit for the respect with which you should regard your superior officers I hear from your mouth earns another hour on latrine duty.” She was smirking a little more openly, while Milkovich fumed.

 

After a few moments of his sputtering, she nodded. “I’ll take your silence as a sign that we understand each other, Milkovich.” She leaned in close. “Now get back in line _ , Cadet. _ ” She hissed.

 

The boy seemed to consider his options, and tossed a glance in Ian’s direction, before nodding. 

 

“Alright. Fine. Yes _Ma'am_ _ , _ or whatever.”

 

Williams gave a slight nod to Milkovich, before turning back to Ian. "I'm expecting a lot from you, Gallagher. Don't disappoint me."

 

She returned to her pacing up and down the ranks.

 

Once she was well out of earshot, Milkovich shook his head. “C’you believe that shit?” He muttered, not to anyone in particular.

 

Ian smirked. “That’s an hour latrine duty, Cadet.” He rumbled low enough that only the Milkovich boy would hear him.

 

Williams spoke before Milkovich could respond. “Students, the first thing you do when you are excused from this courtyard, is to go to the library. Ushers are set up to direct you where you need to go. There, you will pick up your class schedule, a booklist, and a supply list.”

 

The Milkovich boy answered when she paused. “Fuck you, gaping at me all ‘that was ballsy’ yeah - everything seems ballsy when you’re a pussy.” He laughed a bit. “I just didn’t realize how  _ much _ of a bitch you are. Like ay, fuck, we get it, you’re into it. Goddamn.” He shook his head, and Ian had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

 

“The second thing you will do,” She spoke again. “Is find your dorms if you haven’t.”

 

“Okay, that’s  _ seven _ more hours. Good luck.” He dug his teeth into his lower lip as his shoulders shook, silently thanking God that Williams was so far away.

 

“You will have two hours from the moment you are excused from this courtyard until lights out. If you make it back to your dorm with time, you are to get acquainted with your roommate; trust is key in your dynamic, as most team activities will be dictated by dorm.”

 

“ _ Seven _ ? No fucking way.” Milkovich protested.

 

“You said ‘fuck’ twice, ‘balls’ twice, ‘pussy’, ‘shit’, and ‘bitch’.” Ian muttered just before Williams finished with, “You are excused.”, and there was an explosion of activity.

 

Students burst into mingled conversation - Ian thought he heard someone crying - and swirled about in an effort to find where they were supposed to be going.

 

When the commotion cleared a bit, Ian found himself following the crowd toward a building he assumed was the library.

  
  


In the chaos of the scene, he lost track of Milkovich pretty quickly, though he was certain the other student was glad to be rid of him.

 

Ian stood in line for an agonizingly long time to pick up the things he was expected, and was getting ready to head back to his dorm when Commandant Williams stopped him.

 

“Gallagher.” She spoke sharply from right beside him.

 

Ian snapped his back straight and saluted, which he was sure looked ridiculous with the different sized papers in his hand.

 

She gave a small smile. “At ease.” He lowered his hand, and noticed that Milkovich was at her side, his backpack over his shoulder, looking like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “You are to show Cadet Milkovich to his new dorm.”

 

Ian nodded, and Williams returned it, before moving on to other important business.

 

Now Ian turned to Milkovich, giving a small smile, which earned him the finger, before continuing toward his dorm.

 

After walking for a few minutes, Milkovich spoke up. “‘Ballsy’ is  _ not _ a fuckin’ swear word.”

 

“What?” Ian coughed. 

 

“It’s not. I can buy the others - but even if it  _ was _ , the same word wouldn’t count twice, so it’d  _ still  _ only be five.” He wasn’t looking up at Ian, just at the deserted corridor in front of them.

 

Ian couldn’t help the heavy laugh that escaped at this - he was still talking about scrubbing toilets.

 

“No, okay, maybe the same word shouldn’t count twice. But ‘ballsy’ is still a swear word. And what’d’you mean you could  _ buy _ the others? What words  _ do _ count?”

 

Milkovich shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m not twelve, I don’t have a fuckin’ list of all the swear words I know.” He spat aggressively. “And it if I  _ did _ ,” He continued. “It wouldn’t include fuckin’ ballsy.”

 

Ian shook his head, as the two approached the dorm. “Whatever, man.” He conceded, as he unlocked the dorm.

 

Milkovich grunted and dropped his bag by the door, and made his way over to one of the two twin beds, sitting down on it to untie his shoes.

 

Ian drew his gaze away, sitting on the bed he supposed was now his - and would be for the next several months - and reaching to untie his own shoes and remove them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I hope y'all are having fun, because trying to write with school and ROTC and explorers AND rehearsal and art club PLUS doing worship at my church (please don't judge :D) is WILD and I'm diggin it but it also means I will likely be posting less and less as the school year wears on, so please be patient and stick with it because I have an ending planned (though that's very far off) tat will be awesome!


	7. The Milkovich Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute since I posted, with school and everything I've gotten a bit busy but here it is! 
> 
> (P.S., writing a slow burn is hard! IDK how those talented authors out there do it!)

Ian woke at six to a single, sharp  _ ding! _ over the intercom, followed by Commandant Williams harsh voice, saying, “Breakfast is in the mess hall at oh-seven-hundred, and we will go over emergency procedures at oh-seven-thirty.”

 

The ginger rolled over in his bed, blinking sleep out of his eyes.

 

He forced himself to stand, thinking of the day’s planned activities.

 

He dug his class schedule out of his bag and pinned it next to the headboard of his bed.

 

He glanced over to see the Milkovich boy still asleep, and shook his head.

 

Ian supposed waking the boy before breakfast would be the noble thing, but he was also fairly certain it would earn him a face full of knuckles.

 

Instead, the redhead checked his class schedule, seeing he didn’t have class until 09:00hrs, and realized he’d likely have over an hour after breakfast then.

 

Maybe he would actually bond with his new roommate, like they’d been instructed the night before and likely wouldn’t have even if Milkovich hadn’t passed out upon reaching the comfort of a bed.

 

Ian shook his head. He was more likely to walk off and explore the campus, maybe plug in his headphones and listen to some music.

 

With a sigh, he decided to utilize these last forty minutes to take a shower.

 

They didn’t have showers in the dorms, they had big community showers, so he grabbed the flat-ironed uniform that hung from a hook on his wall, and a towel.

 

As he made his way toward the community showers, his hope was that no one would be there this early in the morning.

 

As a second demonstration of Ian’s luck, however, he found the showers buzzing with activity.

 

His heart sank as he approached the room and heard several voices and the sound of running water.

 

He hesitated at the door, thinking maybe he could wait to shower until after breakfast…

 

Third time’s the charm; before he could make his decision, someone else opened the door to leave - a tall blond fellow, with dark roots - and gave him a once over before holding the heavy wooden slab open for the ginger.

 

Ian had no choice; he gave a small smile and walked into the room.

 

He was immediately met with the smell of many mixed body sprays and deodorants, and crinkled his nose against the harsh scent.

 

A few glances flew his way, but no one paid him too much heed.

 

Ian was grateful for this.

 

He moved to hang his uniform out of the splash zone, and then paused when he considered how to go about the next part.

 

Where he was standing, there were long lockers with hooks - several had uniforms with names embroidered on them - and several articles of clothing strewn about carelessly.

 

He took that to mean the other people back there had stripped here, and then moved back to the showers - which made practical sense.

 

_ Okay _ , he thought,  _ everyone showers back here. It’s no big deal. _ And with that thought, he stripped.

 

The last thing he took off was the bracelet Debbie had given him. He’d almost forgot he had it, and now he looked over the different little charms on it.  _ So, when you leave,  _ she had said,  _ you’ll have something to keep us all on your mind. _

 

He tucked it into the pocket of his uniform, so he wouldn’t forget it and hopefully no one would see it, before slowly moving around the corner toward the actual showers, the towel around his waist his only solace.

 

When he stood, facing the other teens, the one who was speaking paused, making eye contact with him.

 

With a glance to his friends, the boy just nodded to Ian and continued whatever it was he had been saying.

 

The whole experience was relatively painless, but Ian was relieved, nevertheless, when the door to the room dropped shut behind him.

 

It was just after 06:30 when Ian started for his dorm, clipping Debbie’s bracelet back around his wrist.

 

He sifted through his stuff, eventually just moving his whole backpack into the footlocker at the end of his bed, and moved to the other twin bed.

 

“Milkovich.” He said uncertainly.

 

When no response was apparent, he cleared his throat. “ _ Milkovich _ .” He said a little louder.

 

Still no response.

 

He carefully moved toward the other teen, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Milkovich, wake your ass up.” He muttered, shaking the dark haired boy.

 

At first there was no response, and then extraordinarily blue eyes shot open, Milkovich’s hand shot up and grabbed Ian’s, and before the ginger could process what was happening he was on his back underneath the panting raven.

 

Milkovich’s eyes were wild, his forearm pinning Ian’s throat with a little more pressure than was comfortable, as Ian blinked through his shock.

 

Their gazes met, and there was something there besides shock and aggression.

 

A moment of hesitation, and then Milkovich eased back and it was gone.

 

He harshly pushed Ian off of his bed, and muttered, “The fuck, Gallagher?” Rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

 

“The fuck yourself,” Ian huffed, rubbing his neck uncertainly as he caught his balance.

 

When Milkovich just shot him a glare in response, Ian decided to explain himself.

 

“Breakfast is in…” He checked the analogue clock on the wall; 0640-ish. “Twenty minutes, thought you might like to be awake for that.”

 

“Yeah - you fuckin’ touch me again, I’ll break every bone in your goddamn body.” The Milkovich boy grumbled, as he stood and stretched.

 

The sleeves were cut off the black band shirt he was wearing, and when he stretched his arms over his head, Ian had to drag his gaze away so as not to stare at the rippling muscles under his pale skin.

 

Beautiful.

 

_ Dammit. _

 

Ian shook his head, hoping to clear it of those thoughts, and giving a sharp sigh as he stood.

 

“Well, I’m going to head to the mess hall. Join me, now that you’re up anyway, or stay here and go back to sleep, likely get cited for missing breakfast.”

 

Milkovich seemed to study him a moment, as Ian forced himself to drop the raven’s gaze and turn toward the door.

 

His hand touched the handle before the Milkovich boy spoke up again. “Alright, Jesus, give me a minute to get changed.

 

Ian couldn’t help the smirk he gave in a response, as he turned back around.

 

Milkovich gave the uniform a once over, before throwing his hands up. “We’re supposed to do shit in those retarded outfits?” He huffed.

 

Ian let out a small, dry laugh. “Yep.” That was when he decided nothing the Milkovich boy did or said could be hurtful, he was just abrasive.

 

And that just made Ian want to get to know him better, get past that because there was no way it was real.

 

Ian checked his phone one last time - he still had the voicemails from his siblings - before shutting it off for the day.

 

He tucked it into his bag, glancing at the clock a final time, before leaving with his roommate.

 

Milkovich grumbled about how ridiculously early it was up until they reached the mess hall.

 

Eating seemed to improve his mood, though he said little, too busy shoveling food into his mouth.

 

Ian had to admit, the food wasn't half bad. 

 

It was shepherd's pie, which Ian had always been confused about because it really wasn't pie at all, but some pea/pot pie concoction.

 

It was served hot, so that was a bonus.

 

After breakfast, and the brief explanation of emergency procedures which Ian mostly tuned out, Milkovich seemed significantly less stand-offish, and Ian decided it was safe to probe.

 

“So, you’re from the South side, right?” Ian asked as they were making their way back to their dorm.

 

Milkovich gave him a look, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah. The fuck’s it to you?”

 

Ian shrugged. “Just your surname was familiar.”

 

The dark haired teen scoffed. “Yeah, sure you’ve seen all the work my family does for charity.” He sneered.

 

The door to the dorm creaked as Milkovich yanked it open violently, leaving Ian behind as he entered the dorm.

 

Ian settled into his bed, wondering if Milkovich would say anything else, watching him closely.

 

And it wasn’t an unpleasant sight, as the other teen milled about, putting things away and shuffling stuff about.

 

Ian found his hand drawing to the bracelet around his wrist, running his fingers over the little charms.

 

“Assuming you’re from the South side,” Milkovich spoke again. “The fuck did you end up… The way you are?”

 

The redhead frowned, taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

 

Milkovich waved at him vaguely, and Ian felt himself straighten up. “All goody-goody and shit. It’s fuckin’ weird.”

 

Ian shrugged. “Without some structure and system, society can’t function. We've all seen proof of that growing up where we did.”

 

Milkovich blinked. “Right.” He started toward the door. “I’m gonna go ‘cause I got some class or some other shit. Later Gallagher.” And with that, he left.

 

“Milkovich…” Ian muttered under his breath, shaking his head. 

 

He pulled his phone out of his bag and considered the voicemails.

 

They became more intimidating the more time he didn’t listen to them; had Fiona been repremansive? Had Lip?

 

Like it was his place.

 

He ran a hand through his hair, tucking his phone back in his bag again.

 

A glance to the clock told Ian it was nearly 0800, and PT was at 0830. 

 

Stretching, he threw on his PT clothes and left to go for a quick run beforehand.


End file.
